Rise of the Dragons: Dragons' Den
by SirialBlack
Summary: This is the sequel of Rise of the Dragons: The New Riders. Though the Battle of the Changing Weather was won by the Riders of Dis Atilan, it has led to chaos among the Riders and Dragons. With their wounds still fresh, most have chosen to abandon the island which used to be their home, searching for answers to the mystery of the ever growing number of Shades and Wyrms.
1. Wind-Up

**Prologue: Wind Up**

Air whooshed past him as his wings moved in a fast manner. He was climbing higher and higher, past the line of white clouds that stood before him.

Rage was inside him, filling his veins with the energy he so desperately needed. There was a dragon following his tail, a big, ugly thing that shouldn't have been allowed to live for this long, yet he had. Red and white scars lined the other dragon's body, a sign that he had been part of many fights. That should have intimidated Vertigo yet it did nothing to him. He brushed that mere fact away as he had done with so many other things. His memories felt distant, his emotions in a turmoil.

What he needed was not to escape. What he needed was to sharpen his claws and his canines with flesh and blood. And he knew exactly where to get it from.

The sun's rays fell on his flesh, momentarily warming him and he closed his eyes in a moment of bliss. It was not long before he opened them again as the image of a boy popped into his mind and he opened his jaws, ready for the attack.

He let out a loud growl as he saw the brown dragon, named Dyohorn, reaching him. Vertigo flew below him and bit a chunk from his lower body, easily. His tongue rolled at the taste of dragon blood. It was not something he could ever get accustomed with, nevertheless it was a pure necessity.

Dyohorn let out a pained cry and attacked him. Vertigo slid to the side, missing the other dragon's canines by inches. He flew higher again and then gently started falling. Dyohorn caught the bait and run after him. His jaws almost closed around Vertigo's tail but the other dragon turned around and sliced Dyohorn's lower belly with his claws. Blood spluttered in the morning sky and fell directly down the sharp rocks of Ramirblaka. Vertigo thought he saw the beginnings of the other dragon's entrails. Once again he flew higher but the other dragon had not given up.

Dyohorn was a wild dragon, the previous leader of Ramirblaka, and he was as ferocious as he was cruel. He would never give up. His jaws opened to reveal the set of sharp canines he bore. As a wild dragon Dyohorn could not speak the human language or communicate with words. Instead he used images but the message was clear.

 _Time to see if your royal blood is the same colour as mine_ , Dyohorn seemed to say by showing him an image of himself lying on the ground, his blue blood dripping on the rocks.

Vertigo bled the same colour as all the other dragons in the world yet the blood of royals was often said to be blue because of the stronger energy running inside them.

 _If you want to see my blood you need to catch me first_ , Vertigo replied caring not if the other dragon understood his meaning, climbing higher once again.

The other dragon growled.

 _You are a dragon ridden by humans. You are weak. You do not know how to survive in the wild,_ Dyohorn replied projecting his thoughts to the rest of the wild dragons watching from further down below.

Vertigo scoffed. The other dragon's thoughts did not touch him.

 _If you were a better dragon your rider would not have died._

Vertigo turned around and let out a pained growl.

Dyohorn seemed to gloat, happy with this particular thought.

This had reached a weak spot beneath his armour. Something he had tried to hide over the last few months but with small success. Only, Dyohorn did not know. Dyohorn did not know that the only way to forget about Tristan – even thinking his name was hard – was to release all the rage and pain he felt.

Vertigo turned around and started falling towards the other dragon. That seemed to excite Dyohorn. The other dragon rushed to meet him. Vertigo, however, was going faster. He was a bullet, he was weightless and he was the only one who could still manage to be in control in that speed.

When he fell upon Dyohorn the other dragon tried to turn around or stop the descent but he was not made to fly fast. He was larger, bulkier. Dyohorn's strength was fighting at a low altitude and attacking first, using his weight and power to dominate the other dragons.

Now, he was powerless. Vertigo easily manoeuvred around him, biting the other dragon's ribs, slicing him with his claws and waiting. Chunks of flesh flew in the morning sky and when at last, they were close to the ground, Vertigo released him.

Or so he thought. The other dragon had managed to cling on his tail, leaving red raw marks, in a desperate attempt to save his life. Vertigo growled and sliced Dyohorn's nose and eye. This was enough for the other dragon to release him.

Vertigo changed his course just before he reached the ground and flew a few meters higher before he returned to the spot where Dyohorn had fallen. The dragon's body had been impaled on a thin, sharp rock that resembled a giant thorn.

When Vertigo landed, the rest of the wild dragons were there, watching him with cautious expressions. He walked to where Dyohorn was in a slow manner. When the previous leader of the wild dragons opened his eyes in a last attempt to attack him, Vertigo took out his left eye and then stomped upon his head.

His gaze fell on the wild dragons.

 _I am the leader. I have the royal blood and the power to protect or chastise you if need be. Whoever disagrees can fight me to the death. If you dare_ , Vertigo said in words and thoughts to the rest of the dragons and growled loudly running his claws along the rocks of Ramirblaka.

His chest felt raw from the few injuries he had acquired but his heart was pumping, his blood running blue. He growled again, louder and louder till the wild dragons flew away from him or around him, but he did not care which of the two. He was the wild dragon leader. He was the strongest of the wild dragons. Whether they hated or loved him, Vertigo was going to protect them. No dragon would die under his rule. He would not make that mistake again even if it meant his own death. Unless, of course, they opposed him.

...

Tareq blinked and held his palms over his temples.

 _No, not here, not now_.

He shouldn't be having these images, he was bonded to no dragon and he was a shade. Yet, there they were these images blocking him, holding him prisoner.

 _Quiet as a shadow. Smooth as clear water._

He wore very little, trusting the darkness of his skin for camouflage as he crept along the tower's wall guided by the sounds of the city. He had skin the colour of bronze and strange eyes — a clear, pale brown, like amber from the tall forests across the sea.

The words he had mesmorised since he was only a small child came back to him. The voice of his master bellowed into his mind.

 _"Steal their purses, their secrets and their lives. Then, return them to me. If you get caught you will be killed. If you try to escape your family will die. If you don't succeed you will be tortured and so will your family. Would you like to see the new patterns on your mother's back?" his master's voice said in a chilly tone of voice._

Tareq shook his head.

"No" he whispered and kneeled, his belly almost touching the sharp tiles underneath him.

His brother had told him once, when he was younger, that his colour concealed him in the dark compared to the whiter humans. This was his advantage. Night was his friend, dirty narrow paths and tiles, his lover.

Though this hadn't saved his older brother. If the voices in his head were to be believed, the Queen was still alive and his brother's head lay somewhere above the walls of her castle.

His younger brother. . He did not dare think of what had become of him.

No, he should be with the dwarves. Must be with the dwarves.

 _"You are a shade now but don't get any ideas about trying to escape. Your family is still with us and the king in you. One word of his and you will die" his grey master had said._

He brushed his thumbs over the edge of the wall and looked below him.

Too high.

He couldn't jump below. But across him there was another building. He slid back and ran, gaining speed and momentum. When he was propelled in the air he looked below him and for a few seconds he was flying.

Maybe the king whispered a quite spell, because despite all odds, he landed on the roof of the building he was aiming for.

And that's when he saw him. There was a rider patrolling the streets of Glieonard and he had spotted him.

Terror seized him and his hands shook momentarily. Upon hearing the wings of a dragon approaching, he started running again, jumping from one roof to another as if they were rocks in the crossing of a river.

 _Stop_ , a voice said in his head but remembering the pain he could not.

He had to escape, get away, save whatever remained of his family. But he was surrounded. He gazed around him and saw the riders. They had climbed on the roofs of the grand hall just as he had done and they were looking at him.

 _You cannot escape. Even if you leave Glieonard we are surrounded by water._

His heart started jumping inside his chest, panic seizing him and he knew he was losing control.

Tareq wanted to cry because he could feel the consciousness of the king demanding entrance and there was but a small wooden door standing in his way.

With a cry he turned the door handle and let the king take over. In such situations it was easier to let someone else take over. At least the King knew secrets he did not. He knew how to use magic and he knew how to fight with swords, how to ride dragons and much more.

From the puppeteer he had become the puppet. He felt his lips twisting into a cruel smile.

"Riders of Dis Atilan… You should be cautious during the night… You never know what lurks in the shadows" the King whispered and then his lips uttered a quiet spell, so quiet, that it may have just been a thought.

The roof of the Grand Hall started shaking and Tareq body was alight with energy. The riders were fighting to stay upright but soon gave up and most jumped atop their dragons. They uttered spells, threw arrows and swords at his direction but all were neutralised.

The King smiled.

"You cannot win against me" he said though they both knew he was wrong.

Tareq's body was weak, weaker than most other humans. He was agile and he could run long distances without water or food, but in battles or magic spells he had always been useless. They grey leader had been baffled that Tareq had been the vessel of choice.

But the riders did not know this.

"We do not plan to win" one of the riders said, a tall elf with dark hair.

His hands moved and vines started sprouting from the roof. Tareq's body moved backwards, trying to escape, trying to run.

Too late, he thought desperately.

The King had run out of energy and he did not know how to be agile. Not in the way Tareq did. The boy demanded to be let out but the King shushed him. One of the vines grabbed his leg and a small shot of energy exploded from his right arm and fell on the elven rider.

The elf had not expected this, yet he managed to avoid the blast. In his attempt though he managed to fall on his side and slide down to where Tareq was. The elf's momentary lapse of concentration was enough for the vines to stop holding the boy so strongly.

He slid from inside them and made one more attempt to run but the elf was there holding a dagger against his throat.

"Do not move, Shade" he whispered in a cold tone of voice.

Yet, the King moved anyways and stabbed the elf in the chest in a quick movement. If the dagger had been a few inches on the left he would have managed to stab the elf's heart but the boy inside him had screamed in protest and that had made the King pause.

Blood poured from the elf's wound and the King went to land another blow but the boy shouted again. The King growled and pressed his lips together. Tareq felt the touch of the cold steel before the rest did. He froze. There was no more energy left inside him for the King to use and no weapons to utilize. In the King's eyes Tareq was of no more use to him until he regained his energy.

Tareq mentally locked the door of the King's room, hoping he would never take control again though he knew better.

"You blood thirsty Shade! Is it not enough that you have killed so many of us? What else do you want? Why are you doing this? Do you not have a consciousness?" an Urgal screamed at him and went to attack him with a sword.

Fear seized Tareq once again and he lost control.

The voice which spoke next was neither his, nor the king's.

"Grohn!"

The Urgal paused and narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know my name?"

"I don't have much time. Please, listen to me. This is not …"

A punch knocked the breath out of him and Tareq fell on the roof's tiles, spitting blood. Next to him was the elf, who was whispering healing spells. Upon seeing him, he grabbed a dagger but Tareq's arms rose in the air.

"Adrian, please. It's me"

The elf's irises dilated and he stared at him for long moments before another punch turned everything around him into darkness.


	2. The Queen

**Chapter 1: The Queen**

Nasuada took in a deep breath and stared at her advisors. It was impressive, as Murtagh had stated many times before, how after such a grand attack they were all still present, appearing to have suffered very little loss during the events in Bull Ring.

On her right hand, was her long trusted friend Jormundur. He had been her father's councillor before he had been hers, and with each passing day the age difference between them became more apparent. His walking had slowed down - he now held a stick to carry himself - , his hair had fallen leaving naught but a shiny scalp and two of his teeth had disappeared overnight making smiling for him a very rare occasion. Nevertheless, he had served her father well as he had served her and even though she may have had her doubts about him when she had been crowned Queen, these had long been put to the side after the many years of service. Despite his old age, he still continued to give excellent counsel, if not a bit outdated, and deciding to remove him from his current position would be a grave insult to him as a person and to all of his generation who still followed her.

On her left there was Mirash, with a skin colour very close to an unpeeled almond. Compared to her own ebony skin colour, his was many tones lighter but it was obvious that he was different from most humans inhabiting Alagaesia. Nasuada had seen very few people with a skin colour similar to his and according to what Mirash had told her, he had come from further East of the Dessert, further than where the wandering tribes were often spotted and further yet from the Urgal territories. How Mirash had managed to climb to the position of Head Banker she would never know. From rumours told about him, Mirash had once been a trader, following caravans and selling whatever he could get his hands on. With time that had increased, ranging from exotic fruit and vegetables - that the lords, Queen and Kings of the land were most eager to try - to caged animals – something Nasuada had always been firmly against, but which the people in Alagaesia had loved – and spices. Soon, he had managed to set up a trade at the city of Ilirea, where obscure objects, foods and animals arrived from every corner of the world. Nothing was too small for him to find and nothing too big that he could not carry. Mirash had always had a way of managing to mingle with people from all statuses, - Nasuada had noticed this from the very first time she met had met him – easily gaining their trust through gifts and compliments. He always seemed to have enough money to lend to people, whatever the situation. His return rate was just as high though and Nasuada had heard stories of hired assassins entering the houses of men who had been unable to repay their debts to him. Whatever his doings, Nasuada couldn't say that he didn't serve well, always managing to produce the most cost-effective way of arranging things, whether that was a grand celebration or a march of soldiers. His age must have been close to hers, if not a bit older and Nasuada had only seen his hair once –it had a dark brown colour, cut short – as he usually covered it with a big, colourful cloth. A very thin dark moustache was atop his upper lip, exaggerating the smile he often wore.

Next to Mirash sat Caalio Hirah, a famous captain from Beirland. If Nasuada had thought that Mirash's head band was odd, Caalio's style was even odder. The upper top of his hair was coloured purple and the bottom, green. The colouring of his hair always matched his clothes and he always appeared with different shades in his hair and outfit. In the first few days of his joining the counsel, Nasuada had entertained herself at guessing what colour Caalio's hair would be next time she saw him, but by now she had grown bored of her little game. Caalio was both a loved and hated man in Alagaesia. His friends referred to him as Captain while his enemies referred to him as pirate. Orrin had been the least pleased when Nasuada had first appointed Caalio as one of her advisors, stating that Surda had faced many raids from pirates and that he would not side with someone of such fame, but she had dismissed his worries. For all Nasuada knew, Caalio might well have been a pirate but he knew the main land and seas of Alagaesia better than most and he was an excellent strategic player. Nasuada had first encountered Caalio in Surda during one of her visits to Orrin. He had been different then, younger, but nevertheless very experienced in the doings of war and battle planning. The people in Surda had hated him, that much was obvious, but he was well loved in Alagaesia due to the entertainment he provided alongside coin. Him and his men were treated respectably in inns and castles and there had never been a cause to change this. Whether he was a pirate or not, Nasuada had soon learnt that even pirates had a code of honour they would not break. During her first few years of reigning she had asked him to complete a range of tasks and had been pleasantly surprised to find that Caalio did not blindly follow her commands as many of her other subjects. When she had tried to take the castle from one of Galbatorix's generals, she had asked Caalio to sneak into the castle – as he knew many hidden passages – and kill the General's eldest son in order to relay a message. This had been a test, one Caalio didn't know about, as Nasuada had sources that told her that the boy was already ill. As soon as he had asked him this, Caalio had refused and said that it is not a man's job to kill children. Ever since that day, Nasuada had known that Caalio would be valuable and somewhat honourable and after bringing her Galabatorix's general alive and in chains to her yard, she had known he would be most useful when closer to her.

Still, Orrin had been infuriated with her decision and had tried to break the peace treaty with her many a times. The smallest cause and he would find reason to blow the event out of proportions. In order to avoid future conflict Nasuada had agreed to allow Orrin's daughter to sit on the small councel and act as a representative of Surda. It did not escape Nasuada that Elyana would relay everything back to her father, but what Orrin had not anticipated was for his daughter to be so open-minded in regards to her sleeping arrangements. Rumour had it that she had slept with many of the Guards and Generals present in Ilirea and had managed to seduce even Mirash and Caalio. Whether this was true Nasuada did not know for certain. The only one who seemed to have escaped her spells was the man sitting next to Jormundur. He was an elf with white hair and an ethereal beauty Nasuada had not seen before. His expressions were unreadable and his comments few but wise. He was named Eboron, after the tall tree found in the deepest forests of Alagaesia. It was no secret that Elyana had tried her ways with him but from the hostile looks she threw at his direction, he had obviously declined.

Nasuada could not deny that Elyana was beautiful, as she had inherited none of her father's features and taken entirely after her mother. She had blonde-white locks that carelessly fell to her shoulders, pale skin like mother's milk and eyes the colour of a cloudy sky. The Queen did not doubt that many men had sung songs of her beauty. Though she had been surprised, if not rather curious, as to why Elyana had chosen so many companions over the years, but had taken none for a husband. Nasuada had noticed the looks that often passed between her and Caalio but she could not tell if they were romantic or a simple taunt. Once, Nasuada might have thought that this was an elaborate plan from Orrin with an attempt to bring every man under the Queen's commands under his orders instead, but she had dismissed this idea. Most of the men that Elyana entertained were a temporary thing, a night pleasure and were soon discarded like a dead carcass.

Apart from these five, King Orik's illegitimate son had joined the council. He was a strong lad and had taken the place of his father in the last few years. Before that he had acted as an emissary, carrying messages between Nasuada and Orik, but after a while Orik had seen it fit to place him in Ilirea. He was young, the youngest in the council. He was but eighteen years of age. Nasuada had heard tales of how Orik had grown tired of his wife and had found company elsewhere. The exact cause of this was not known by many, but his wife was barren. Even though strong and beautiful, she had been said to have been poisoned after the news of her first conception had spread. Though the poison was deadly, she had managed to keep her life but had lost her child alongside any likelihood of obtaining another in the future. From what was known, Orik had stayed by her side in the beginning but Micilia had grown tired of the many attempts against her well-being and, in the end, she had decided to end her life herself. She did not however succeed and since then she had been bound to a wheel chair, unable to walk. After this, King Orik had had many mistresses and fathered more than three sons, one of them being Bjorn, the one sitting at the council.

Nasuada could only guess of what was to happen after Orik's death. Chaos was sure to persist between the different dwarven clans and Nasuada had no time for this. The fact that Bjorn sat at the council gave her reason enough to believe it was Orik's wish for his eldest son to be his predecessor though as strong and kind-hearted as Bjorn was, he was not made to be a leader. He lacked the ability to influence people and have people follow him. Nasuada was afraid that if he became King he would soon become someone else's pawn. If there was no other choice she would make certain that she would be the one controlling Bjorn, but her responsibilities were many and she could not afford to move in with the dwarven clans.

Nasuada sighed. There were two more sons. Bastard born of course, but they could be a better choice. Though, one of them was a dragon rider, the other was said to be the Captain of the Military guard. She would have to think upon it. Maybe she could ask Bjorn to ask his younger brother to join them in Ilirea to discuss battle plans.

Too many thoughts spun in her head and she decided to call the meeting to an end. She walked to the balcony and grabbed tightly on the fence surrounding the terrace. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, hoping for the fresh smell of rain. Instead, she got that of rotting flesh. She opened her eyes only to see the messenger's boy head across her.

"Ivan" she called.

The captain of her Queensguard arrived in seconds.

"Please tell someone to remove the head from the walls. It has been sitting there for two weeks now. I am certain my enemies understand its meaning"

The guard nodded, turned around and run down the steps.

Mirash approached her, turning his moustache with his two sleek fingers.

"If I were to advise the Queen I would tell her to keep the head there a little longer. It would intimidate her enemies"

Nasuada narrowed her eyes.

"Yet you were not asked to advise the Queen"

The Head Banker smiled and bowed. She pressed her lips together, hoping she had not insulted him and then bid him goodbye. Nasuada was unexpectantly tired. Ruling the lands of Alagaesia had been hard enough before the war began. Now, it appeared to be impossible. There were very few people around her that she trusted. She was the Queen, yes, but she needed counsel.

Nasuada grabbed the nearest pen and dipped it inside the dark ink. The letters sprang on the paper within minutes and then, using the trick that Tryanna had taught her, she placed it against the mirror and said the words in the Ancient Language. The paper disappeared within seconds leaving not a trace behind.

"Everything all right, your Grace? Shall we begin the meeting?" Caalio asked, curiosity eminent in his gaze.

Elyana stretched across him and eyed the Queen with an expression of half lust, half hate. Nasuada turned away from her direction and nodded at Caalio.

What she had done was probably not one of her better notions, yet she needed all the support she could get. And a dragon rider was certain to help in that matter.


	3. Togira Onikonoka

**Chapter 2: Togira Onikonoka**

Eragon kneeled on the wooden desk relying heavily on his arms. Moving when there were no legs underneath him was a challenge. Sometimes he would utter a quiet spell so that he could stay upright and then move, but this had soon proved to be a mistake as his energy reserves emptied too quickly and left him feeling weak, tired and nauseous.

Saphira was always there to give him a hand - or rather a paw - for him to climb atop her back but using her purely as a transport means made him feel incapable.

 _Don't be absurd_ , the dragoness said in his mind.

Eragon threw the pot of ink on the floor in anger.

 _You are listening in my thoughts again. I thought you were hunting with Firnen today._

Saphira went to lick her paw, then paused realising it was the missing one. She looked at the stump almost in disgust and then walked close to the Library's large window.

 _I was. Hunt, however, ended early._

 _Did something happen?_

 _No more than the usual,_ she said though she was clearly hiding something.

Eragon decided not to probe further. Her relationship with Firnen was almost as complicated as his relationship with Arya. Considering dragons' relationships didn't last longer than a few months, it was a surprise Saphira and Firnen were still hunting together regularly.

He put his weight on his left arm and concentrated on reaching a piece of paper with his right. He was sitting on his chair as he tried to reach for it, but his arm was not long enough. Annoyed, he leaned back and uttered a quiet spell that made the patch of paper come to him. He felt the small loss of energy immediately and he closed his eyes, almost in pain.

 _Don't give up just yet, partner-of-my-heart-and-mind._

Eragon swallowed.

 _I have not. I will not. Not when so much depends on me._

Saphira blinked at him.

 _Have you spoken to Arya?_

He shook his head.

 _Last I heard she was in the forests under the Fur Volan volcano, near the elven dorm._

 _Give her time._

 _I have._

The knock on the door of his office stopped their mental conversation.

"Approach" Eragon said and Gwen entered in a rushed manner.

She kneeled in front of him quickly and then passed him the letter.

Eragon read the document quickly and shifted his attention to Gwen.

"Nasuada requires a rider"

Gwen nodded.

Eragon contemplated this.

"You want to go"

Gwen nodded again.

He sighed.

"You are one of the older riders here… Losing you at such a crucial point could be catastrophic. Additionally your resemblance to Nasuada would not go amiss"

"This can be easily solved. A mirage of myself. A second image. I can make an amulet. As for the riders here… Grohn and Adrian will…"

"Nasuada asked of me specifically to protect you. What would she say if she found out you had returned? Have you spoken to Murtaugh about it?"

Gwen bit her lower lip. "He is still recovering. I did not want to upset him"

"You should bring up the matter with him before any decisions are made. And do keep in mind that the riders need you. You are one of the oldest _here_. Your experience and your skills would be valuable _here_. You are not made for the political war that is ranging in Alagaesia"

Her eyes glowed. "My place is with my mother! Staying here reminds me of all the riders we have lost… Maurine, Gas, Idel, Tristan…"

There was not a moment Eragon missed his legs more than then. He wished he could walk to his niece's side and hug her. He had never had a close relationship with Gwen, if truth be told. He was more a teacher than an uncle though he had always had a soft spot in his heart for her. He had wanted her to grow up amongst the riders, be a rider. And indeed she had grown up to be that and so much more.

"Gwynevere… Running away is not the solution. In times like these we have to think of our responsibilities to Alagaesia and to the riders, not our personal interests"

"May be not, but it is my only option"

"Head down to the cells. Speak to Murtagh"

Realising that the matter was at its end she nodded and walked away.

 _The riders' numbers are decreasing faster than butterflies in a warm summer's eve_ , Saphira observed.

 _And I am useless. Togira Anikonoka. The cripple who is not whole._

…

Adrian watched the boy in front of him writhing in pain.

"Enough!" he shouted in disgust and Grohn turned to look at him.

He was holding a small carving knife which had blood dripping from its edge. The boy's fingernails were in ruin.

Murtagh was standing near them with his back against the stone wall and one arm over his chest where his recently healed wounds lay.

"Do not look at me in this way. Do not look at me as if I am the monster!" Grohn shouted, approaching the elven rider.

He was breathing heavily, his goat horns appearing larger than before and his irises were a deep, dark yellow.

 _I like it no more than you do. But it has to be done,_ Murtagh added almost gently in Adrian's mind.

Then, Grohn threw him the knife. Adrian caught it in his right hand.

 _If you have a better way of doing this, feel free. I have had enough for one day. This_ …., Grohn said pointing at the boy. _This is exhausting._

Adrian's fingers squeezed around the hilt of the knife and he approached the boy. He could hear Grohn walking up the steps and Murtagh followed behind him. At the last moment he turned around and gazed intently at Adrian.

 _I would be careful around these two. They are more dangerous than they appear and chains may hold them prisoners but there are other ways in which they can distract you,_ the red rider warned.

The elf nodded and walked forward. The Shade's eyes opened up, upon hearing the sounds of his footsteps and his back became one with the wall. He swallowed hard and rose his hands in the air, his bloody fingernails in plain sight.

"Please. No more…" he begged.

His eyes had the most interesting of colours, Adrian noted. They were a light brown which appeared almost hazel under the light of his lamp. These eyes did not belong to a Shade.

Adrian kneeled on the ground, the knife still in his hands. Unsure, he swallowed and put it on the side. The boy watched his movements carefully.

"What is your name?" Adrian asked gently.

The boy moved further back against the wall, as if he wished to become one with it. He shook his head quickly, his dark brown hair falling in his eyes.

Adrian let out a deep gush of wind.

"When you escaped where did you plan to go? We are surrounded by water. Sooner or later we would have found you in Dis Atilan. Unless there is a hidden portal somewhere or you have friends waiting for you nearby"

Again the boy stayed silent, his eyes growing large, similar to a doe's.

"How are you able to demonstrate such a power?"

Adrian was met with utter silence, which angered him but he tried to keep his cool.

The boy was chained inside his prison. The riders had seen his capabilities and they weren't about to take any more chances. On the other hand, Adrian was more than willing to get to the bottom of this. He unlocked the chain of the prison's door and walked inside. The boy shivered as if he had a cold.

Adrian produced the herbs from his pockets and a mortar. He put the dried leaves inside and started grinding them. From his left pocket he produced a small bottle of lavender oil. He added it to the ground-up leaves.

The boy watched him with caution and curiosity.

When Adrian made a move to approach him the boy crawled away, his arms and legs bleeding from the effort of escaping his chains.

"I mean to add the poultice to your wounds. Do not be afraid. It will take the pain away and help you heal faster. Unless you attack me or have intentions of harming my friends I shall not hurt you" Adrian promised.

Still, when he went to apply the poultice to the boy's leg, he screamed as if he had touched him with acid.

"Please, please, do not hurt me! I will not escape, I promise! I know nothing of the wyrms or the Shades! They said nothing to me. They ordered me to do something and I did! Please…."he plead with tears in his eyes.

Adrian knew not what to do. He could understand the riders' struggles. This was not something they had been trained to do. This was not something they had been prepared to do. Torture was not one of the skills taught in the lessons with the Masters. Yet, now it seemed to be the only solution. Only that the Shade in front of them chose to share nothing.

 _Torture has failed but using other methods may prevail. He is a young boy, after all. Not unlike what I was or what the riders here were, once,_ he said in Mars' mind.

The dragon was not so sure.

"Let me heal you" Adrian repeated.

This time the Shade did not try to get away from him. Gently, Adrian pressed the poultice against his wounds.

"You can tell me your name, if you wish" he said and turned to the other leg.

The boy's nostrils flared but he said nothing.

"You know our names. You said my name in the roof. Adrian. And Grohn, the Urgal who was here before"

"Grohn" the boy repeated with a mixed expression of hate and fear.

"Yes. And I am Adrian. Who are you?"

The boy rose his eyebrows and retreated.

Adrian finished applying the poultices and moved backwards.

"You will get nothing from him" a female voice said.

Adrian turned around and the boy retreated even further inside his cell, as if afraid of the voice.

In the cell opposite him, pale hands clutched the bars. A female face appeared, one which was crowned with white-golden hair tinted with red and pale pink at its edges.

"You speak" Adrian said almost in relief.

The girl let out a small laugh. "When I want"

She pushed her arms through the bars and her face moved to the side, a smile playing at the edges of her lips.

"What do you know, then?" he asked her in a curt tone.

She tittered and moved her forefinger from side to side. "Not so quick, elf. If I am to share some information with you, you will have to give me something in return"

Adrian did not like this. He did not like this one bit.

"You appear to be confused. _You_ are our prisoner. You _have_ to tell us"

She rose a pale white-golden eyebrow at his direction. "Or else?"

When she got no reply she hmphed. "You have been torturing us now for …. What? Three months? I seem to have lost count of the days, down here. Yet, you know nothing more about our mission than what you started with. Does that not bother you? Additionally using such cruel means to extract information… Your innocent rider souls must be in such pain!"

Adrian took a step closer at her direction, his torchlight above his head. He looked at her in a serious manner but she only smiled suggestively at him and moved her body along the bars provocatively.

Adrian rose his eyebrows and stepped back, looking at her half horrified.

She put her head back and laughed. "Why do you walk away, elf? Are you afraid of me? I only just want to play for a bit… I can assure you… You will enjoy it. I have been with hundreds if not thousands and never once have I had any complaints. If you are nice enough and agree I may even give you some information afterwards"

"This is not a negotiation. This is an interrogation" he told her seriously.

She cocked her head to the side again and tittered.

"Shame, really. I have never been with an elf. I have never been refused either. Is it… Could it be that my form does not please you?" she asked in an innocent voice.

Under the torchlight her appearance started changing. Her ears grew longer and had a tint to their end. Her waist became slimmer and so did her hips and chest.

Adrian's eyebrows pushed together.

"There. Now I look more an elven female…" she said and smiled, but upon seeing his expression she pouted.

"What do you know? Who is this boy? Who are you? Where do the Shades hide and what is your plan?" Adrian repeated, trying to change the subject.

The female Shade danced along the bars. "Mmm… Who am I? I am a Shade. A very skilled one as well, I would like to think. I have had many names. You can call me what you wish. Most like to call me Chantel. Oh and how they shout my name!" she said and studied him for long moments.

She could play her little game for all Adrian cared. Finally he had gotten some information. Or so he liked to think.

"You can shout my name as well, if you wish. Or shout any name you like. Just tell me… What is the name of your lover? Who is it you most desire? I can see you are in pain… You have not been loved in many years. Let me ease this pressure from you…" she said and her body and face started changing again. Her bust grew larger, her hips even bigger than before, her face round with full pink lips and white-cream skin.

Adrian looked away.

"Who is the boy?"

"You want to talk about him? I would much rather talk about you…" she said, then paused.

"He is the boy-king. The only one who lived" she then added almost in disgust.

"Why do you call him this? The boy-king?" Adrian asked her, moving closer.

She smiled and her hair changed colour from pale-white to blonde and became shorter and curlier.

"Is it not obvious? He carries the soul of the king. But his thoughts are skewed, his emotions torn in half. I carry a thousand souls and he carries but one and cannot even cope with that! He is weak that one. The mere sight of him disgusts me! He was the favourite one though. The one who lived"

Adrian came closer.

Chantel's appearance had changed again. In place of her large bust, smaller budding breasts were in place, her waist thin like a little girl's waist and her face round, her eyes large and innocent.

"Please, sir. Please let me go free. I have been locked here against my will… Please" she begged but Adrian did nothing.

"The soul of which king?"

She batted her eyelids at him and laughed. "Still interested in the boy, are you?"

Then, as if in realisation, she stared at him curiously. She grew taller, whatever bust she had disappeared and there was no waist to be found. Her arms became muscular but thin, her legs tight with muscle cords. Rough angles and lines appeared on her otherwise innocent face and her hair grew long and gold-white once again. Her eyelashes and eyebrows grew thicker, her jawline became masculine. Her eyes were bright with amusement.

Adrian stepped back. His hands turned into fists and Chantel laughed.

"I know everyones' darkest desires. The King's Generals paid handsomely for a visit to my chambers. My mother kept the profits until I decided to take business into my own hands. I killed her when I was only thirteen. What a happy occasion it was! One of the men she had been entertaining was accused and I was set free to roam the palace and keep the money!"

For a moment he pitied her until she started moving her body suggestively again. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"Even the strongest wills eventually break. But we are Shades. The boy-king and I. Physical tortures mean nothing to us. Mental probing might disturb unknown forces and leave you a cripple, like your master. No… Keeping us here is of no help. You cannot get the information you need and you cannot set us free. Eventually you will have to kill us"

Adrian said nothing. None of the riders had attempted to break the shades' mental wards. Their chains were strong enough to stop them from using dark magic but they were not strong enough to let the riders freely roam into the shades' minds.

"Tell me where your Master is hiding. Tell me where the rest of the Shades are"

She smiled and brought her masculine body forward.

"Unfortunately I cannot share this information with you, even if I wanted. Our… Master did not disclose such tidings with us. We were pawns to his plans"

She then sighed and stretched like a cat.

"Do you know how Shades are made, young rider?"

Adrian narrowed his eyes.

"You wish to tell me, I suppose?"

She smiled. "Why not? I do grow lonely inside these bars. The boy-king will not talk to me and you have even broken communications with my dragon! You are evil creatures but no more evil that us"

His curiosity spiked. It was still a mystery to them as to how the Shades had managed to become riders.

"Certainly your Masters must have told you that to become a Shade you need to have the wandering souls of demons inside you. It is usually the result of an accident, a stupid, insolent sorcerer who wants to bind souls to their doing. Or… a wicked sorcerer who wants to have creatures obey him. He uses vessels for his doing. Weak creatures who can be easily manipulated. This is one of the reasons why many of the Shades you fought were young. For me… None of the two applied. I became a Shade on my twelfth birthday. By choice, if you must know! Was I a sorceress before, you might ask? No. Only a dissatisfied, physically and mentally abused child. Becoming a Shade was one of my better notions. The thing I remember most vividly about that day was not the pain, but what came after. You are a rider. You must have been in someone's mind before, have their soul talk to you. Well… Imagine having hundreds of these voices inside your head, each demanding something different. I will grant you this. It was not easy. What I knew not, back then, was that upon becoming a Shade I was under my master's commands. I was not free but a slave. I had been deceived…"

She smiled at him.

"And how did you end up with the band of the Shades attacking Alagaesia and the riders? Was this under your Master's commands as well?"

Chantel laughed at that in a girlish tone. "Do not mock me, rider. I may have been a slave but I was never useless. My master… My master died within the first two months of my turning. It was my hand that slew him. Or was it one of my lovers' hands? I often forget the details"

"And how did you become a rider, then?" Adrian asked.

She batted her eyelids.

"I am afraid that is a story for another time. I appear to have grown tired, after all. Have the riders bring me some food. Roast suckling pig baked in honey and apples would suffice"

He glared at her.

"Oh! And maybe some dessert, perhaps? You appear to have such lovely physique. It is quite taunting to the eye and it has been too long for me. Dress lightly when you visit me and I may tell you yet more stories"

"Stories" he repeated. "I wonder if any of what you told me is true"

Her expression turned to one of shock. "What? You do not believe me? I have poured my heart and soul tonight… You wound me deeply, dear rider. Do send my regards to that Urgal friend of yours. He usually does the interrogating. We have such good time together!"

Adrian looked at her in disgust just as the light crept away from her body and face. She had acquired an image that resembled Bivorn so much he had to wonder if she had read his thoughts and taken the form of his elven lover, after all. As he exited the cells where they kept the prisoners, light fell upon his face, warming him. As soon as the feeling of euphoria from the sun spread to his fingertips just as quickly it disappeared upon hearing Aiedail's pained growl.

…

 _Togira Anikonoka:_ The cripple who is not whole.


	4. The Washerwoman

**Chapter 3: The washerwoman**

Haryak had not been working long for the clan of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin in Dalcon, a dwarven city south of the Beartooth River. They had wanted a washerwoman and since most of her life she had spent doing washing, cleaning and emptying chamber pots she had been the ideal candidate. Despite the fact that she hadn't been there for long, it was hard to remember her life before working for the clan. She had been a washerwoman for the monks of the great temple Celbedeil in Tarnag, before. And before that, her memory failed her.

When she was young there had been an accident which had left her mute and slow. It took her more time to understand what others told her but when she set her mind to a task, she would not stop until it was complete. When the high lords of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin told her to clean, she would clean. When they told her to wash, she would wash. The dwarves paid her neither in gold nor in silver. What she received for her work was bread and a bed to sleep at night, amongst the countless other servants.

Despite the fact that she was slow to understand, the High Lords chose her services instead of others'. When they held meetings she would be the one responsible for cleaning, setting up the tables and the chairs and making sure everything was as it was meant to. On the rare occasion - if she was lucky - she would stay in the room long enough to clean up after the High Lords had departed. Meat and mead were served aplenty and there was always a chicken thigh or a pie to be had. Most days she did not have such splendid choices. Only bread and stew, which was cooked by the fat woman in the kitchens. What went in that stew no one really knew, but every time it had a different taste to it. Once, Haryak was certain that she noticed a rat's tail in it, but she was too hungry to care.

She thought about that beautiful roasted duck she had had only a fortnight ago, when Lords of another clan had visited Dalcon. Haryak had been present in the room as well and no one had batted an eyelid at her direction. She had stayed silent all throughout the night and when the servant had told her to clear the plates it had taken her an additional minute to understand what he had said. As one of the lords exited the room he had glared at her direction but it had been so quick that he must have thought of her as a shadow or a passing ghost.

Despite her lack of words, her fingers were skilled enough to put other washerwomen to shame. Large, rough and calloused like beaten leather, they told people all they needed to know about her.

Haryak lived a peaceful life for the most part. Oftentimes she would be sent to the small temples of Dalcon where she would collect the monks' robes and scrub the tiles until they shone. Most of the monks passed her by without a second glare, but one had taken an interest in her. The first time he had spoken to her she had been so surprised that she had dropped the bucket of dirty water on the newly polished floor. He had smiled, apologised and helped her clean despite her efforts to stop him, trying to show him that it was her work, not his.

The first thing he had told her was his age and name. Fouran, he was called and he was but fifteen years of age. He had been a monk no longer than two years and he hated sparring and meditating. On the other hand, he loved the stories of the Gods and he often recited some to her. Once, an elder monk had found him reading a book while she was cleaning the monks' underpants in the wash room and he had chastised him by hitting him on the back with a wooden stick. Fouran had seemed more surprised than afraid and he had laughed while the elder monk had sworn to send him to the dungeons. Of course, he hadn't, but the next day Haryak had seen Fouran in the yard, training with a wooden stick and trying to perfect the moves.

"They want me to train with a staff. They say it's good to keep the body sharp. Praying is for the mind, but I much prefer reading the books in the Library. Today I was reading about Helzvog. I know he made us from stone but what I want to know is how. Did he take two rocks and just push them together? When I push stones together the best thing I can achieve is sparks to light a fire" Fouran told her today.

Haryak made no reaction to what he had said. She kept on scrubbing the tiles, yet Fouran continued.

"I don't like the elves. In the stories they are always cold and distant. I wonder why Guntera would create such a race. They always live long lives while doing… well… Nothing. They are hidden in Ellesmera. It is said that some have moved to other locations, established new communities… Have you ever thought that maybe they could be behind the attacks? They have the power. They are Guntera's chosen race. They have a Queen who is a dragon rider. If they wanted they could very easily take over Alagaesia and only the riders could stand in their way though everyone knows that their order is weak" Fouran said and then paused as if regretting what he had said. "No, I shouldn't be saying this. This is just speculation. I should respect the Gods, respect the races. Besides, there is no evidence, is there? Though elves would not leave traces behind, would they?"

Haryak said nothing. Even if she could speak, she knew not of elves.

"Again?" an angry voice said and an elder priest entered.

He grabbed Fouran by the ear and took him to the yard.

"How many times have I told you to train with your brothers?" he continued but his voice became fainter.

Haryak continued washing for the rest of that day in the temple and the next two days afterwards. She did not see Fouran again that day or the next for that matter. She remembered of another monk, once, who had taken an interest in her but that was long ago. He had been much older and much wiser. And a lot of good it did him!

In the third day she was called to one of the Big Rooms. The ones with the big furniture and the highly decorated walls. She started placing the plates and moving around the table. A servant-boy knocked on her and then apologised. He blinked at her direction, perplexed as to why he hadn't seen her before. Haryak didn't mind not being noticed. Haryak didn't mind of what was done or talked in the Rooms. Haryak had never felt the need to object or even do something other than her job.

Even when the boy, Fouran, spoke to her every time she went to clean at the temples, she didn't like. She would rather go about her business in peace, unannounced. She looked on the ground as the Lords entered and then fell back into the shadows. Wine was served first and then a plate of mountain deer dressed with mint and spices. There were also potatoes and vegetables swimming in gravy and seeded soft white bread which was like foam in her fingers.

The Lords ate and talked amongst themselves. Quickly, too quickly, for her to grasp the meaning of what they said. Until, one rose and pointed angrily at the man opposite him.

"Barzul!" he swore. "You brought him here?"

The other man was a slimy, short, thin creature. Half of his hair was gone from his head and the other half was slick with grease.

"Should I bring him in?" he asked.

The other man, who was taller with thick mustachios running down past his legs, nodded, after examining the room carefully. Haryak and a man servant were currently the only ones inside the room.

Soon, a dark-skinned boy was brought in. The man with the big mustachios and heavy ornaments nodded to the oily haired one.

The man rose a weep and let it fall hard on the boy's shoulder. A scream escaped the boy and Haryak dug her nails in the insides of her palms to stop herself from doing something. They asked the boy questions. Questions about a Queen and a King. Questions about a Shade.

Every time they asked, the boy cried out in pain but he could not find the answer they were looking for. After what seemed like hours, they stopped. The oily haired man brought a sword forward and sliced the boy's throat. He cried out in pain but didn't die. He fell to the stony floor and stared above.

"Don't forget to deliver the message. Tareq shall know. The King will tell him" the mustachio man said.

"I can make his soul enter the girl, if you wish, shire" the other man said with a half-tooth smile on his face.

The man considered it for a few seconds. "No, this shall not be necessary"

The dwarves left, but Haryak stayed put in place for a long time after that. If the man servant had not told her to move and clean the floor she would have probably stayed there longer. She opened her palms and noticed that they were covered in blood, her own. By the time she had finished cleaning the room her hands had the blood of the boy on them as well. The man servant who had commanded her to move, had taken the body away.

When he told her to return to her room she had stared at him for a few longer seconds. A maid who walked nearby, laughed at her direction when the man servant started shouting.

"What are you looking at, woman? Move!" he growled at her and the maid threw a bone at her direction.

"She is mute, that one. I reckon her tongue was cut when she was young due to insolence. Come, stupid" she commanded and pushed Haryak away.

Haryak followed as if in a dream.

The maid munched on another chicken leg she had stolen from the kitchen.

"Want some?" she asked but she had already finished half of the meat.

Haryak shook her head.

She was a pretty maid, that one, Haryak noticed. She had a heart-shaped face and full, rosy lips. She was also wearing a necklace and a bracelet which she could not have bought for herself. Either she had stolen them or someone had given them to her as a gift.

Haryak looked away. When she arrived in the room she had pushed her nails deeper inside her palms. This should have been the end of her curiosity. Only a momentary loss of judgement. Or so she thought.

When news had reached Dalcon that the young Prince, son of King Orrin would visit, her interest had picked up. She, along with thousands of other dwarves, had come to see.

"Prince Rikon. The second son" a woman next to Haryak told her husband as Dwarven lords and royals walked down the Halls of Dalcon atop the backs of strong Feldûnost.

"A bastard" someone said and spit at him.

"Isn't he a rider? Thought that one left to join the riders"

"Ney. He came back, me heard. His dragon died on him"

Someone laughed. "And he expects to lead us?"

"Mayhaps he killed the reptile himself. Mayhaps he intends to do the same with the Crown Prince and take the throne for himself"

She didn't know if fate was playing a cruel joke on her, but she was responsible for serving wine and food for the Prince Rikon and the Lords of Dalcon, that day. She kept silent as she should and did her duty. The Lords praised the Prince and assured him that the aid of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin would be given to him alone.

"Though, tell it to us true, now, Prince. Did your dragon die? Did you kill the reptile?" the same lord with the big mustachio asked with a big smile fixed upon his face.

Haryak watched the Prince's expression change. His hands shook but he said nothing. After a few moments he smiled with them. When the meal was at its end, Haryak cleaned up.

Her duty should have been to return to her room but there was something strange about the night. Everything was silent, too silent for her liking. Even her own breathing seemed loud against her ears. She watched the Prince head to his chambers, followed by Guards and a Priest.

And, then, there at the corner, there was a hooded dwarf or a small child waiting. The prince did not know this. The Prince was completely oblivious to the dagger heading towards his direction.

Haryak should not intervene. This would raise questions. Questions she didn't want to answer. She was here to watch, work, be with them but not of them. Yet, she could not let this pass. She climbed the steps two at a time with an agility that defied her age. She looked to have fifty decades under her belt and there were lines near her mouth and eyes. She was thick of body but light of weight.

As the assassin went to attack the Prince she put herself between them. She raised the plates she had been carrying and made herself appear small. The Prince was quick enough to realise what was happening. He moved to the side and avoided the blade, but the assassin attacked again. The guards next to him stayed put in place as if they didn't understand what was happening. Until one of them grabbed the Prince's arm and tried to break it.

The prince yelled in surprise and kicked the guard between his legs. The man fell on the ground and then he concentrated his attention on the other two people in front of him. Haryak picked one of the plates and threw it at the guard's face with a strength she should not possess. The man slammed on the floor and then only the assassin was left who made desperate attempts to kill the Prince. But the Prince was quicker. In a few moves he had the man's head under his arm and he was gasping for air.

"Who sent you?" he asked quickly, but the man shook his head and then blood started rolling from the sides of his mouth.

Rikon released him and watched the man in disgust. It took him some time to realise that Haryak was still there.

"Are you all right?" he asked quickly.

She nodded.

"He bit his tongue" he explained.

She said nothing. She had assumed as much.

"If it weren't for you, I would have died. There may be more assassins lurking in the shadows but I doubt it. I have my own men outside my chambers. I should not have trusted the likes of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin! How can I repay you?" Rikon quickly asked.

Haryak said nothing and went to return to her room but the Prince grabbed her arm and made her look at him.

"Do I know you?" he asked but she shook her head quickly and ran down the stairs.

She rolled on her bed quietly. What she had done was a mistake and she had overstayed her visit. She could pretend that none of this had happened but there were shadows in the dark of the castle. They would know what she had done. Word would get around. She would turn from a shadow to a statue. And the last thing she wanted was for people to pay attention to her.

 _A week,_ she thought. _I will stay a week._

She knew who was who. She knew who to interrogate but she had to careful. No traces left behind. No one should know she was here.

 _So close,_ she thought desperately but there was nothing that could be done.

Only once before had she been found and it had resulted in an otherwise avoidable death. She thought she had been safe this time. She thought she wouldn't repeat her past mistakes.

She cursed Rikon for being so unobservant and hoped he had not recognised her.

 **A/N: Next chapter should be up Sunday/Monday. I have taken a different approach with the second installment of this series and I am trying to include more characters and tell the stories of different parts of Alagaesia that I had previously not paid as much attention to. Could you leave reviews or comments and tell me if this is something you like or would you prefer the style of the previous book? Less character perspectives and pay more attention to two or three parts of the IC universe? Thanks again for reading!**


	5. Caltitude

**Chapter 4: C** **attitude**

Her footsteps felt light as she walked down the path with the fallen leaves. Oaken trees surrounded the passage forming an ark. It was late afternoon, yet the shadows of the trees made it appear as if it was night. Behind the trees Elva could see rocks and caves, the lairs of the creatures she was looking for. She was pulling a carriage with sturdy big round wheels. The weight of her package felt non-existent and despite the many hours of work her shoulders did not ache. Elva was never made for physical work. Too much and she would throw up the food she had previously consumed. Too little and her thoughts would get distracted by visions. Nevertheless despite her light weight, she was pleasantly surprised to find strong muscles hiding underneath. They could carry her and lift her easily, making her movements appear eerie and silent. A small gift of the curse Eragon had placed on her when she was a child. Yet, the noise from the cart she was carrying behind her was enough to wake a mule.

Indeed, soon enough a shadow crept from her right. She paused and eyed the shadow carefully.

When the werecat came into the light, with his skin appearing grey and his breaded hair falling down to his knees, there was nothing but contempt in his expression.

"What is the human doing here? How did you find our lair?" he demanded.

Elva scowled and rose her eyebrows in annoyance. She did not have time for this. She was doing _them_ a service not the other way round.

"I have brought you something. Thought you might be interested" she said pointing at the wagon behind her.

Another shadow crept forward, one of a female werecat with long grey-white hair also falling to her knees and skin as wrinkled as a dried prune. Elva sensed a theme in their appearance. The female werecat went forward and uncovered the blanket.

Elva counted the seconds. It only took two before they hissed at her and produced daggers from their waists.

"You demon! What cause have you to do this?"

Elva sighed in annoyance and tapped her foot on the ground.

"Pull back your… Daggers. It was not I who murdered him. It was the hooded creature which roams in Alagaesia terrorising its inhabitants. I merely brought back his remains so he can have a proper farewell. Oh. And a message"

"You werrrre in Teirrrrrm? The hooded creaturrrre has not been seen in Alagaesia since then" the male werecat said.

She nodded, uninterested, examining her nails.

"Why arrrrren't _you_ dead? Teirrrrm was burrrned to ashes" a voice said from behind the shadows.

 _More werecats_?, Elva wondered. So far three had spoken but she could count another five still in hiding.

"You have the honour of meeting Angela's –the herbalist's- apprentice. Yes, you can bow low now and offer me flowers. And it better not be roses. I hate roses. They smell too sickly for my tastes. Bring me gardenias… or better yet the berry flower. Very rare but so very beautiful" she said with a smile on her face.

The creatures regarded her carefully.

Elva sighed, feeling the remnants of the magic spell still in her mind, demanding her to act. She did hate magic with a passion. Especially when she was on the receiving end of it.

"The hooded creature wanted me to deliver a message to your leader" she continued.

"By brrrringing the carrrrcass of a fellow kinsman?" the elder male – or so she assumed, it was hard to tell with werecats- asked.

"Kinsman? I thought Solebum's ties did not run deep with the werecats of the Vale… Then again, I could be wrong. I only knew him for fifteen years" she answered, almost in irony and happy to be able to change the subject.

"Carrrreful… This kinsman is my son, Elva, Angela's apprrrrrentice. I would bet my tail that his death was as much Angela's doing as it was yourrrrs!" a female voice said, one that belonged to the werecat with the grey-white dreads. The woman was cradling a stick and upon seeing the carcass her lips had turned into a tight line.

Elva rose her eyebrows curiously.

"Maud? I have heard such tales about you! Surrounded by elves at first, then by riders. It appears you are much like Solembum in this. Trying to find a place in the world with creatures of a different race to yours…I wonder why" she taunted and the werecat responded.

She pulled a knife and pressed it against Elva's throat. Elva did not even attempt to move from her position. She studied Maud's expression.

"Curious" she said out loud because it was.

Ever since entering the forest northwest of Farthen Dur she had not even once received a vision of the future or felt the almost constant need to become a shield for others' misfortunes. Even now, when her life was in danger, her gift had stayed silent. It would appear her gift did not work when surrounded by werecats. She had noticed this with Solembum as well but she had assumed that Angela had placed the same spell on her companion as she had done on herself. Now, it appeared she had been mistaken. What was it about werecats that made magic diminish?

The thin trickle of warm blood than ran down her neck brought her back to the present. She smiled.

"Careful, now, Maud. You do not want to kill me. If you must know I had naught to do with Solembum's death. Angela abandoned me before she was attacked. She had planned to leave Solembum with me but your son was much too clever – or too stupid, rather - and he found a way of following her into the night. I also have a message to deliver. One, which I would rather not but… It appears I have no choice in the matter. Magic is quite tricky in that way, is it not?" she asked and laughed.

Maud put down her dagger, after the elder male whispered something in her ear.

"What is this message? How can we trrrrust that it is only a message you want to deliverrrr to us and not … say death? You did say you were underrrr a spell?"

Elva cocked her head on the side. They did have a point.

"I am afraid there is no way of knowing if the spell asked me to kill you as well. If you must ask it did not, but… I could be lying. As part of the spell. Though the message I had to deliver was of peace and a treaty between yourselves and the … whatever this new band of outlaws calls themselves" she said and pushed a strand of hair back from her brow.

"Grrrrrey folk" Maud said, spitting on the ground.

Elva rose her eyebrows. "Really? Quite impressive. I thought these creatures were long gone though I always did have my doubts about my mentor… And you say there is more than one? That would explain why the spell still has an effect on me. I heard the enemy was beaten by the riders in Dis Atilan and the spell-caster was slain"

Maud nodded. "So it would appearrrrr"

"Ah. What other news do you bring from Dis Atilan? Do the riders know that you are gone?" Elva asked, innocently.

Maud regarded her with caution and answered only one of her questions.

"The creaturrrrre was of the grrrrey though he died before giving us much information to go on"

"Curious… Well it appears I have something from him to you" Elva said and produced from her pocket the golden ornament he had given her.

Maud growled. "He wants to side with us?"

Elva shrugged. "So it seems. He did talk to me of peace and a treaty. Though if I had a say in the matter I would tell you not to side with him"

"The wyrrrrrms were defeated in Dis Atilan. Why did you not come to us soonerrrrrr? Why now?" one of the werecats asked.

Elva smiled, a wicked smile.

"I was ordered to find the werecat lair and deliver a message. But I was not told in how much time I should do it, so I took my time, telling fortunes and selling potions and runes and doing… Well… What I do best"

Maud stepped forward and looked at her companions. "You cannot tell me that you arrrrre seriously considerrrrring siding with him? Do you not see my son's corrrrpse?"

"Solembum was Angela's companion. He brrrrought himself into this" the male werecat said.

"She brrrrrought his body here… With a message of peace. This is not a negotiation, this is a warrrrrning" Maud said.

"Glad to see someone realised after all" Elva said and tried to clean the dirt from her fingernails.

"Show us the Pointed Starrrrr again" the third werecat, who was a younger male, said.

Elva gave them the golden object.

"I can sense magic within it. Unfortunately I only got very few images. Lots of animals, of course. Dull name though. Pointed Star. It's almost like calling me dark-haired woman. No I would rather have my current name. E-L-V-A"

She had spoken but the werecats were ignoring her. They were having a conversation in a language Elva could no longer understand. Solembum had taught her the werecat language, but he had said there were many dialects within it so even though she could communicate with them she was not able to understand everything.

At least the power of the spell which was within her, had diminished. There was one more thing it asked of her, though.

"I thought your king was responsible for making decisions, not his generals. It would be nice if you could take me to him. Then the spell would disappear and I would leave you in peace to do … well whatever you do here" she said, pointing at her surroundings.

The werecats stared at her with narrow eyes. Then, the young werecat, who boasted blue hair and matching coloured eyes, placed handcuffs around her wrists. She gasped but then shrugged.

"Fine, put me in chains, though if the spell is strong enough they will not hold and you know this" she told them.

"If you mean to kill the King the chains will slow you down. It will give us enough time to finish you off" the same werecat who had chained her, told her pleasantly.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Ah. Purr-fect. How sweet of you"

When a blindfold was placed above her eyes she breathed in annoyance.

"I found your lair once already. You think I would not find the entrance to your caves?"

She was met with no answer and she tried to carefully place her feet accordingly. When the ground below her, gave way, she screamed.

"Are you trying to kill me? If, yes, then having me fall to my death is stupid. If, no, then you better be more careful" she warned.

It was the wrong thing to say because, suddenly, she was placed above someone's shoulder. Both her legs and arms were tied and she could smell the clean, crisp air of mountainous forests. She could also smell the earth and rocks and she knew they were climbing on rocks or near rocks. That must have been why she slipped.

At some point the upward journey came at an end and she was placed back on the ground, using her own feet. Cold air and moisture surrounded her. They were near water and it was night time. When the feel of warmth enveloped her she relaxed.

It was only seconds before they took the fold over her eyes. She had to blink several times to adjust to the dimness in the room.

"Grimrr Halfpaw" she thought as she looked at the tall werecat who patrolled around some Eukalyptus trees.

The smell in the air was one of incense, similar to the one in dwarven temples. It was no mystery that the main ingredient of incense was eucalyptus leaves. The dwarves collected their leaves from the river Âz Ragni near the dwarven city of Tarnag. Little did they know that as they lurked in underground caves so did the werecats. The werecats were literally hiding underneath the dwarves' noses. The dwarves could simply go for a walk and they would find them. Though, if truth be told, It had taken her more than three months to find the werecat lair and not due to lack of trying. True she had taken her own sweet time, stopping as many times as she could but even she with could not find the werecats easily.

Of course the werecats knew where the dwarves hid and were careful to avoid such places at all costs. Instead their lair was situated under a waterfall which took the travellers into a large hollow mountain. From there on, Elva was not certain of the way, though she thought she could find it again if she tried. The werecats had covered her eyes but not her nose or ears.

The young werecat who had chained her brought the Pointed Star to the king. Grimrr examined it with a hungry look in his eyes. It was a look Elva did not like. She did not like it one bit.

Maud was next to her, with an angry expression upon her face.

"So… Do you know what the Star is?" she asked the woman.

The werecat pressed her lips together. "It is an object that had been lost from us for many a years. We thought it was gone"

"Such a vague description! I could have guessed as much myself! And why is it important? Don't tell me that it is just its exceptional beauty which is making Grimrr's saliva drop as if he is tasting roast mutton"

Maud said nothing to that, but the young male werecat who had chained her, leaned closer and whispered in her ear.

"It is said that long beforrre we occupied Alagaesia we had the capability to shape sift into everrry animal of this kingdom. We could dominate every worrld if we so wished and we could surrvive in any terrrrain. Yet, something happened in our land. Something that not many remember. We were forrrced to rrrelocate and in this prrrocess we landed in Alagaesia. The strrrrongest rrrace herrre werrre the Grrrey Folk so we took their appearrrance. They looked like humans only we knew not that it was their magical capabilities that made them special. We used the Pointed Starrr to trrransform ourrrselves and in this process we lost the ability to shape shift. We could only change to our feline ancestorrrs and even then we werrre not as strrrong as we would like to be"

"Ah. The Grey wish to bribe you, then" Elva mumbled almost to herself and the werrrecat nodded.

"Prrrecisely" he whispered in her ear.

"Kitten Halfpaw. Brrrrring the prrrrrisoner, forrrrward" Grimrr said and the werecat next to her pushed her forward.

"Kitten?" she asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"They call me Kit for shorrrt. Long storrry" he replied but the King was eyeing him sternly.

"Indeed. Long Storrrry. And it appearrrs you have sharrrred too much with ourrr prrrrisoner"

Elva put on her most innocent expression and tried not to smile at the many rs in the werecats' pronunciation. "Only the short version"

"Too much. Now. Tell us what this message is"

Elva sighed. "Fine, fine"

She opened her mouth to speak but instead of her own words, the words of another creature came forward. She spoke quickly, her head was pounding and her heart racing. When she finished she could not remember a word of what she had said.

"I hate magic" she swore using her last breath of air and then puked on the side.

Kitten jumped in the air and Grimrr scowled. Kitten laughed but when the King threw him a serious expression, he stopped.

"You will clean the prrrrrrisoner's mess"

The young werecat growled low. "Perrrhaps after"

The King ignored the comment and shifted his attention back to Elva.

"Was that all that was asked of you? No morrre messages? Orrrr an… assassination?"

Elva gave a quick smile but just to be sure she let herself relax and tried to search for magic remnants. Thankfully she found none.

"Yes. Though I could be lying"

"To the cells" Grimrr announced and Elva scowled.

"What if you take me back to where I started? I was blindfolded. I know not how to return to your chambers. My mission is at an end and I do not wish to stay at the company of werecats who would so easily consider siding with the enemy in the promise of… What is it again? Skin changing?"

The King eyed her suspiciously.

"Maybe death would be a betterrrr solution"

She should have kept her mouth shut.

"I was only kidding. Let me go my own way. I have no care for war, or politics"

Grimrr wasn't convinced.

Elva rose her hands in the air. "Look. Only one person was able to control me and this was the Man of Grey. Who is now dead. Anyone else is powerless against me. I have no need to side with anyone and the only thing I wish is to return to my own lairrr" she said adding some extra rs in the end, hoping to sound more like a werecat.

She did not mean to sound sarcastic but apparently that was exactly what she did because Kitten started laughing and the rest of the werecats eyed her with dangerous expressions.

"The human thinks she is funny" Grimrr said.

"Funny? Oh no. I am paw-sitive I would not wish to insult the great King Grimrr Halfpaw who only wishes to gain more power for his clan. I would not dare make this purr-sonal" Elva said in her most solemn tone of voice, trying not to smile. She could not help herself. It was as if the werecats wanted her to be sarcastic.

Kit smiled and started chirping like a bird and Grimrr jumped from the eucalyptus trees, next to his side.

"Sing like a birrrrd again and I will cut this insolence tongue of yourrrrrs" he warned.

"Carrreful, brother. My tongue is prrrecious if you want the supporrrt of the clan leaders. I was only practising shape shifting into a birrrrd" Kitten said, innocently.

Elva smiled despite herself. It had been too long since last someone had used sarcasm in her presence and she did like a bit of wit.

"Take the human away and then you can use your tongue frrreely. So long as she is in ourrr presence you should guarrrrd yourself"

"I shall take herr to the cells" Maud proclaimed. "Keeping herr therre for a forrtnight should be enough to put our doubts of assassination at ease. If indeed she has no more purrpose herre I will escort herr back to the plains of Tarrnag"

"Hey, don't push" Elva wined, switching to the human language, as Maud forcefully grabbed her by her shoulder and dragged her out.

"Stay silent and you may yet live another year" Maud replied in the same tongue.

When she was put inside the wooden cells, she studied her surroundings.

"No iron or metal for the werecats?" Elva asked, innocently.

"We do not work with the metals of this earth"

"Do they burn you?"

Maud pushed the wooden door hard against her. It made her fall on the ground.

"You are young so I will forgive your insolence this once. But I have grown tired of youngsters"

"Is it because they remind you too much of Bum Bum?"

Maud's eyes were a clear dark grey and when they looked at her they were filled with sadness. For a moment Elva felt guilty for speaking in that way.

"He was my friend" she added, trying to correct her mistake. "He was brave, clever and kind. He only wanted to help Angela as did I. That's why he followed her to Teirm"

"Stupid" Maud said.

"Solembum always described you as kind and lovable. He said you went to the Elves to raise the elven children because he would not stay with you. What made you change?" Elva wondered.

"He was only a kitten when he abandoned me to follow Angela in her adventures. When I discovered where he was, he promised me he would be safe. Werecats are a proud and strong race and we know when it is time for our young to leave and go their own way. This was not his time. He left too early but I ignored the feeling in my gut. I was lost. I no longer had a family. Elves offered their hospitality and when Eragon came to ask for my help in the training of the young riders I could not refuse. I had grown amongst the elven children. One of these elven children had become a rider and the thought of being abandoned again was not something I could handle"

Elva stayed silent. She had never had a mother, not truly. She had been an orphan. The closest to having a family would have been her care taker and then Angela and Solembum. Their deaths had angered her more than they had made her sad.

"I am sorry" she said.

"Naught can be changed now. Too many of the riders I trained were lost though I managed to stay strong. Only when my son was lost did I break"

"You will not side with the Grey" Elva realised.

Maud smiled. "Neither will you. For all your big words it is plain that you mean to kill them"

Elva pushed her hair back. "I would so hate to kill the werecats as well. They are not my enemy"

"Nor are they mine"

"Grimrr likes the idea of shape sifting a bit too much, though"

"It is not only shape sifting. There is much more at stake. Though, you are correct"

"I hope there is no one listening in our talk. The feel of treason is too evident"

Maud stayed silent. Elva smiled.

"Tell it to me true, Maud. How did you get to Alagaesia? Were you sent here by the riders? I know werecats cannot use magic otherwise I may have guessed you used a similar method to Angela"

"Angela's secret methods! Did you know she came to Dis Atilan? Did you know she died in Dis Atilan?"

Elva pressed her lips together. She knew Angela had been alive. And she had felt her death.

"I believe you are trying to change the subject" Elva said.

"Maybe" Maud allowed. "Angela was your Mentor and of the Grey. Her powers were great and terrible. The spells she could use… Eragon talked to me once about them. It would be valuable to know such spells"

"Ah. Eragon. You cannot use the spells even if you knew them" Elva said.

"No. But I can teach them to my students. One of them is of the Grey"

"Is he now? That could be helpful. Unfortunately, Angela did not share any spells with me. I am not very good with magic, you see. Other than my natural ability, of course. Quite similar to yours"

Maud nodded. "I should head back. The clan leaders are having a meeting. This will decide whether we will side with the Grey or not"

"For your shake I hope you decide not to"

…..

 **A/N: Don't forget to leave reviews, follow/fav.**


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